A new school year.  Year 6 are studying World War Two this term.

This is Lucy's writing on Dunkirk.

Dunkirk

Sunrise. He saw the beach tattered, blown up, the shine of the sun trying, just trying to reach the wrecked beach, blocked by the sandy smoke. The surviving, the wounded, the worried and the calm. All huddled up under the misty sky above, he dropped to his knees, the miserable claggy sand seeping through the jagged holes in his army overalls.

Bringing one leg up then followed by the other, lifting his weight, he dragged himself towards the desperate soldiers. ”Ah Private Jones welcome to the force,“ shouted a war weary Captain. The Private walked away. And never looked back. He stood watching soldiers die in agony, and others laugh in pain.

Right there, right then a gunshot went off, the bullet case fell onto the pack of sand like an empty grenade. He carefully studied the bullets travel, then without warning a worrying noise,  it sounded like something heavy hitting the mucky sand. He looked up. It was. The silk, skinned horse hit the floor. The horses started to panic.

As he collapsed to the ground thinking what’s the point, he shaded his eyes from the smoke as he hid himself from the devastating place. He lifted his hands away and just made out a figure in the distant background, he traced it with his finger. It was a boat. The only thing that crossed his mind at that very moment was I can go home! He started to cry with joy.

Lucy (Yr6)